I'm a 38-year-old stay-at-home mom to the World's Cutest Kid, and I was diagnosed with multiple myeloma in November 2005. This is a chronicle of my adventures in mommyhood, cancer survival, and everything in between.

Wednesday, July 07, 2010

Happy little bluebirds fly

Since the moment WCK was born, I've dreamed of the first time she'd watch The Wizard of Oz with me. I had high hopes that she'd be ready for it pretty early, considering she was being raised among stacks of Wizard of Oz memorabilia, and I started singing her the songs the day she was born. Unfortunately, WCK was not going to turn out to be a Mini-Me when it came to Wizard of Oz. She went through a horrifying phase around age two, where she wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. It brought tears to my eyes. I was a wreck.

Eventually, WCK warmed to the idea of Oz. She'd play with Oz toys and look at Oz books and listen to the songs. She'd even "play Wizard of Oz" and act it out with me, but she still did not want to watch the movie. She kept telling me over and over, "Mama, I will watch it when I'm five."

Ha HA! She turned five in May! Ha ha ha ha ha!! In your face, WCK!! I knew she couldn't back out of it! I'm sure the word of a four-year-old is legally binding and would hold up in a court of law should she try to sue me. I was going to get that child to watch The Wizard of Oz, so help me God. Now I had to make a plan. As the Wicked Witch of the West once said, "It's how to do it. These things must be done deeeeeelicately."

Well, I found out that a movie theater in Kansas City, Kansas was showing The Wizard of Oz on the big screen for free this morning. I explained this to WCK, and then I bribed her with a trip to the T-Rex Cafe afterwards if she sat through the entire movie with me. WCK would walk on hot coals to get to the T-Rex Cafe, so she agreed.

This is the difference between five-year-old WCK and five-year-old me. If you'd told me, at five years old, that we were going to go watch The Wizard of Oz at a movie theater, I would have sat down by the door -- or maybe even out in the car -- forgoing all nourishment, sleep, and bathroom breaks until the time came to leave for the theater, even if the movie happened to be weeks or months away, because what if the person driving us to the theater accidentally left early, without me? Heck, I'd do this now.

But the movie went very well. We got there really, really early (again, see the description of five-year-old me). It was so good, I cried, like always. Then we ate our bribery lunch. After we got home, I still wasn't sure if the movie really affected WCK. Later, I found her Pooh Bear wearing Tinkerbell wings and a mask. "It's a flying monkey, Mama!"